Snowfort
by Terminal Nostalgia
Summary: When Teufort gets blanketed with snow overnight, Sniper is delighted. Spy's not sure what to make of Sniper showing a positive emotion in front of him for once. It's actually rather endearing, which can't be right. But such thoughts must be put aside when there are snowball fights to be won. (My half of a fic exchange with Chaosandmayhem!)


**Here's my half of a Christmas fic exchange with ChaosandMayhem/Thatsoneginger. The prompt included Sniper/Spy fluff, but the two of them proved to be rather uncooperative. Hopefully this is close enough!**

* * *

Two feet of snow had fallen on Teufort overnight. It blanketed the battlements, bridges and bases of both BLU and RED alike. For a rare, precious time silence fell over the world, muffled and tranquil.

Spy stood in the RED entrance hall, enjoying a peaceful cigarette and watching the snow slowly drift down from the sky.

That was, until Scout came clattering past. He threw himself down on to his butt, grabbing for a pair of scuffed, fur-lined boots. He'd complained they looked too girly when his mother first sent them to him, but after the recent cold snap he'd been glad of them.

'I'm gonna run through all of that,' he said to Spy.

Spy sighed. The beautiful, smooth vista would soon be ruined by Scout's trampling feet.

Scout dragged on his coat impatiently, missing the second arm hole three times in his hurry to get outside. Finally he managed it and threw open the door, bringing in a swirl of snowflakes and cold air. Spy's cigarette went out.

'At least close the door!' he snapped, a moment before Scout slammed it shut. Then the runner was off, charging through the deep snow.

Spy had just managed to locate his lighter when Pyro bustled past, wrapped in so many layers of knitted jumpers that they looked twice their normal girth.

'Nice pom-pom hat you've got there,' Spy said. In truth, he was a little impressed at the way it managed to fit snugly around the Pyro's mask.

'Mmpth, mmpth!' Pyro said in thanks, before flinging the door open. Another chilling draught. Another extinguished cigarette.

Spy watched as the firebug waded out after Scout, trying in vain to catch up with him as he ran around the courtyard.

Spy was just about to retire to his room when more footsteps approached. Ones that ate up the metres between them in no time at all, despite their steady pace. There was only one man with legs impractically long enough for that gait.

'Sniper.'

'Spy,' the marksman said with a small nod, coming to stand as far away as possible from him, while still having a view out the window. They gazed out in silence for a moment, before Spy glanced around at the dour bushman.

'Sniper. There's something wrong with your face.'

'Huh? What?' Sniper said, not really paying any attention to him.

'You're smiling.'

The smile disappeared in a second, replaced by a confused look that was much more at home on the Sniper's typically grumpy face.

'What? I smile. Sometimes. That against the law now or something?'

'Not at all, not at all, just...'

Spy didn't have the words to explain what he wanted to say, and he realised he probably wouldn't want to say them anyway. Because the thing was, the Sniper _did_ smile. But it was usually when he'd just got a great headshot, or had managed to pin someone to the wall with one of his arrows, or was about to kill a BLU during a humiliation round. It was a dangerous, gloating, predatory thing.

But the smile that Spy had just seen, well, it was nothing like that. It had been a real smile. A proper one. Not lips pulled back into a triumphant sneer. Not a grim smile of determination.

But an actual expression of simple, genuine happiness.

Spy could have sworn it took ten years off Sniper's face. He wished now that he hadn't said anything about it.

Sniper grabbed his coat off of the floor. Their coat rack was so overloaded that anything placed on top had a habit of falling straight back off again. And no one ever bothered picking them back up unless it was their own coat.

'Left something in your van, have you?' Spy asked to change the subject.

Usually Sniper lived out in his camper van all year around, but with storms and heavy snowfall threatening, Medic had managed to get the bushman to move back inside using a mixture of coaxing and bodily threats.

'Umm. No.'

Sniper had never been good at small talk and usually Spy didn't bother trying. But when Sniper paused next to the door and stared out at the courtyard with another incongruously soft smile on his face, Spy just had to go and ruin it.

'You _have_ seen snow before, haven't you, bushman?'

The smile slipped away again. Sniper glanced at him, looking irritable, and grumbled, 'Course I have.' He shifted slightly. Spy recognised his tells well enough to know that there was something else the bushman had to say, but that he was reluctant to come out with it.

'Just. Just, you know. Not this much. Not much at all really.'

'How much is "not much"?'

'Uh, well. A centre metre. Maybe less. Sometimes. Some years. South Australia, you know?'

'But nothing like this?' Spy asked, amused.

'Yeah,' Sniper admitted. He stared outside and there was something close to awe in his voice when he said, 'Nothing like this at all.'

He'd just gone through the front door, causing Spy's cigarette to go out _again_ , when two more members of the team joined Spy.

'Gentlemen,' he said, turning to acknowledge Heavy and Demoman. 'You two going out to enjoy a brisk morning stroll as well?'

'I am!' Demoman said happily. 'Gonna go throw snowballs at Scout with my grenade launcher.'

Spy wasn't sure if that would work, but he approved of the general concept.

'Nyat. This much snow is normal to Heavy. Boring. But there is something important I must do,' Heavy said.

'Aren't you coming out Spy?' Demoman asked.

'Non.'

'Ack, Yer nesh, mate.'

Spy didn't know what "nesh" meant, but he did know that he didn't appreciate being called it. He sniffed disapprovingly.

'Would do little Spy no harm. Is good to get nice clean air sometimes.' Heavy glanced pointedly at the smoke curling around the Frenchman's head.

'We work and die outside every weekday,' Spy pointed out. 'That would suggest fresh air is not, in fact, all that good for you.'

He looked away and back out of the window. And gasped.

'Mon-dieu! Look at him, he's acting like a child!'

Demoman and Heavy peered out curiously to see what he was talking about. They spotted Sniper leaping through the snow, leaving deep tracks through the areas Scout hadn't touched yet.

'He looks like, like,' Spy tried to summon up the right image. 'Like a gangly foal running through the snow for the first time. All enthusiasm, no coordination, no common sense.'

Demoman snorted. All three of them watched Sniper charging around the vast courtyard, arms waving around at chest height.

'I mean, if the bushman's not careful he's going to-'

Sniper fell over.

Demoman and Heavy burst out laughing. Usually, any misfortune of Sniper's would make Spy laugh too, often with an unfortunate amount of snorting involved. Instead he just found himself rolling his eyes and smiling as the Sniper's head popped back up, covered in snow. His hat had landed just in front of him. Sniper heaved himself back up in a flurry of white, snatched it up and ran on again.

Spy caught a glimpse of a wide grin on Sniper's face before the bushman ran over to join Pyro and Scout. Both of them were both busy making two large balls out of snow. Pyro stopped to wave at Sniper and Scout started chatting animatedly. Spy had no idea what he was saying, but it clearly made the Sniper laugh.

'How much has he had to drink?' Demoman asked.

Spy dragged his eyes away from Sniper. 'Nothing, so far as I could tell. Why?'

'I've only ever seen him all energetic and smiley like this after he's thrown back a couple of good pints.'

'Really?' Spy had never seen the Sniper when he was tipsy before. He had no interest in hanging out with eight rowdy, drunken mercenaries. Now he was starting to wonder if he might actually be missing out on something by avoiding their drinking sessions.

'Sniper is fun when little bit drunk,' Heavy said. 'Not so much fun when lot drunk. Tends to go...' He paused, searching for the right word in English.

'Maudlin?' Demoman suggested.

Heavy shrugged. He didn't now that one. 'He goes unhappy with self. But very clingy. Like sad little koala.'

Spy made his mind up. Next time the team went out for celebratory drinks, he'd pretend to need a lift into town at the same time and just 'somehow' end up sticking around for a bit. Just long enough to see sad little koala Sniper, but not long enough to be there for the bar fights and vomiting.

Heavy opened the door, Spy cupping a protective hand around his cigarette. Demoman slipped out past him while Heavy ducked down just outside and began packing a snowball together. 'You got any particular target in mind for that?' Spy asked.

Heavy turned to him with a large snowball and a conspiratorial grin. It was not an expression you often saw on the Russian's face. 'Medic does not like cold. Does not wish to come outside. Is no fun at all, so I thought to bring little bit of the outdoors to him. And shove it down back of shirt.'

'Admirable plan. I want it on record though that if he goes on a murderous rampage or refuses to heal anyone for the rest of the week, I'm putting all the blame on you.'

'Da,' Heavy agreed, before clumping off in the direction of the medical bay.

Spy watched Scout and Pyro stop to compare the size of their balls. Scout's was bigger so he left his to give Pyro a hand. For a moment, Spy couldn't see Sniper anywhere. Then he spotted him crouched down in the far corner with Demoman, trying to make snowballs compact enough to survive being shot from a grenade launcher.

There was a shrill scream from down the corridor, followed by a string of German swear words. Then heavy, rapid footsteps and a cry of, 'Mein Gott! Come back here so I can kill you!' Heavy didn't seem too concerned, if the booming laughter was anything to go by.

Spy had been intending to retire to his smoking room to enjoy a good book in front of a roaring fire. However, that would involve trying to get past Medic. Spy decided he was up for heading out into the cold after all. He tugged his coat from out under the rest of them. It was red, of course, and quilted but it was as sleek and stylish as possible while still being warm.

He let himself outside, giving up on the last of his cigarette by tossing it into the snow. Finding himself at a bit of a loose end, he chose the most trampled down path and went over to join Demoman and Sniper.

'Having any luck there, Demo?'

'No,' the Scot sighed. 'Look.'

Spy watched as Demoman aimed for the oblivious Scout. A spray of white powder burst out of the grenade launcher.

'Doesn't even get halfway,' Sniper added sadly.

'Yeah, I wouldn't mind so much if at least reached him. But the snow's too soft, you see?'

'We could always put on enough pressure to turn the snowballs to ice or something, couldn't we?' Sniper suggested.

'Yeah. But I think we might get in trouble with Medic if we accidentally kill Scout. Again.'

Spy nodded in agreement and explained what Heavy had done.

'So best not to get on Medic's bad side for a while if you can help it,' he finished, rooting around in his coat pockets as he did so.

'Can't you stop ruddy smoking for one minute?' Sniper asked, giving him a dirty look.

'I was just looking for my other pair of gloves,' Spy explained, pulling out the evidence. 'Really, Sniper. You always think the worst of me.'

'Usually 'cos it's true,' Sniper said. The marksman's eyes were on Spy's hands as he stripped his kid leather gloves off, exposing pale skin and even paler scars. Spy had to fight the self-conscious urge to turn away as he pulled his winter gloves on as quickly as he could.

Next to them, Demoman made a triumphant noise. 'Ah-ha! This might just do it.' He finished with his adjustments and levelled the grenade launcher at Scout. The snowball exploded out and flew through the air. It disintegrated into tiny pieces a couple of metres from the runner. Scout looked up in alarm, realised what they were trying to do and stuck his middle finger up. Then he turned his back on them and returned to building his-

'That's... not a snowman, is it?' Spy said with an exasperated sigh.

'Nope. It's a dick,' Sniper confirmed.

'A snow phallus.'

'Yep.'

'I bet he's really proud of himself for coming up with that original idea.'

'Yep.'

And Pyro doesn't know, does he?'

'Nope.'

'Merde.'

'Right,' Demoman interrupted. 'I think I've actually got it this time.'

He took careful aim. Pulled the trigger. And watched as the snowball hit Scout directly in the face. Him and Sniper cheered, and even Spy joined in. Just a little.

A stream of curses and threats erupted from the other side of the courtyard.

Spy decided this would be his cue to leave. But just before he managed to reach the safety of the front door, something thumped into the back of his head. He made a startled sound and spun around to find Scout behind him, smirking.

Spy narrowed his eyes. 'Oh. Is that how you want this to go? Well then Scout, you're on.'

He cloaked, leaving Scout standing there, trying not to look nervous.

He made his way back to Demoman and Sniper.

'Nice try, Spook.' A hand punched him in the chest.

'Ouch!' Spy fizzled back into view, glaring. 'Why did you do that?'

To his surprise, Sniper looked embarrassed. 'Um, I didn't actually mean to do that. I was just trying to, you know, grab you.'

Ah, yes. It could be rather hard to judge distances with these kinds of things when the other person was invisible.

'Really? What part of me were you grabbing for?' Spy let his tone of voice do the talking.

'Oh piss off,' Sniper said, turning away from him. 'I just wanted to point out to you that you look like a right idiot trying to sneak around cloaked in the snow. I could see every bloody step you took.'

 _Oh._ Spy hadn't thought about that.

'Look. Are you two going to stand there all day bickering like an old married couple, or are you actually going to help me?' Demoman asked, busy making himself more ammunition.

Usually, Spy wasn't one for joining in with such foolishness, although... He rubbed a gloved hand down the back of his balaclava, dislodging snow.

'I'll get started on the defences,' he promised.

* * *

Half an hour later, the courtyard had turned into a war zone. The team had split into two groups on either side, huddled behind walls of snow with the grim, determined faces of soldiers in the trenches.

Heavy had come back outside to escape from Medic, who'd been very determined to live up to his earlier threats, and joined Demoman's team. Engineer had wandered outside to see what was going on and immediately been drawn into Scout's team. Not because of Scout, but because of Pyro and his sense of fair play.

Everyone had wanted Soldier on their side, on account of his shovel. It was such a rare thing for anyone on the team to want his company, let alone all of them, that Soldier had stood in the middle of the yard in befuddled silence. That was, until Scout had shouted, 'Soldier! America needs you!' Which had won his loyalty without a moment's hesitation.

Medic never came out to join them. Spy did spot him twitch aside the curtains in the kitchen at one point. And _someone_ went and threw a snowball at the glass in front of his face. Not Spy of course. One of the others.

* * *

Scout's team won in the end, once Engineer worked out how to get his sentry to fire snowballs. They overran the other team's defences and pounced on Sniper, knocking him to the ground and shoving snow under his clothes. Demoman fled, firing the last of his ammunition to cover his retreat. Heavy had his hands full defending himself from Soldier and Pyro.

And Spy hid. To counter the footprint issue he'd built himself a little bolt-hole off of one of their side trenches. He stayed there, crouched down and completely invisible while Pyro went flying into a nearby snowdrift and Sniper yelped and squirmed under Engineer and Scout. In Spy's opinion, some of the noises came rather close to sounding like a little girl squealing, something he made a mental note to remind Sniper of at a later date. Though to be fair to him, Engineer _was_ shoving snow down his trousers.

Five minutes later and Spy uncloaked. He eased himself out of his little sanctuary and swiped white powder off of his shoulders. He wandered over to where Sniper lay flat out in the snow.

'You having fun down there, Sniper?'

'Npth ith colth,'

'They're gone now, Sniper.'

Sniper peeled himself off of the ground gingerly, like an injured man. Or one who still had freezing cold snow trapped in every possible location. He winced and shook out the bottom of his coat. A small avalanche followed.

'Christ. And I thought the BLUs were bad,' he grumbled. 'That there was a humiliation round and a half.'

'Really? Didn't seem so bad to me.'

Sniper looked him up and down from behind snow-flecked glasses. 'Well it's all right for some, isn't it? What you do sit back under your cloak and watch?'

'Oui.'

'Bastard.'

'Oui.'

'Damn. You're a right piece of work, you know that, don't you? Can't ever trust a bloody spook to help you out when you need it,' Sniper snapped, before stamping off back towards the front door. The effect was rather ruined by the snow that fell from him with every step.

Spy lit a cigarette with stiff fingers and watched him go. Without the chaos and mayhem and camaraderie to distract him, Spy started to notice just how cold he was. His trousers were damp to past his knees, and his nose and ears were frozen despite his balaclava.

Up until then, things had been... fun. It was a hard thing for Spy to admit, even to himself. As well as being backstabbers and con artists, spies were expected to be mysterious and aloof. Whooping and shouting and getting hit in the face by snowballs had rather broken protocol. And it had been fun. The most fun he'd ever had with his team. Somehow he'd even managed to get on well with the Sniper of all people. Up until the point he'd gone and ruined it.

A fresh flurry of snow blew into his face, extinguishing his new cigarette. Spy sighed and flicked it away. The courtyard was quiet, empty now apart from Spy, the snow trenches and Scout's _charming_ sculpture. Spy turned away from where the monument to Scout's immaturity still stood, dented but proud, and headed back inside.

Snow continued to swirl down, slowly covering up his footsteps and the abandoned cigarette.

* * *

It started the next day with Pyro sneezing. It was such an amusing sound to hear coming from under the mask, that no one thought to worry about it. Then Scout started sniffling and no one really cared because all that did was make the runner even more annoying than usual. When Engineer began coughing, that's when the others paid attention. Engineer's health was usually as reliable as his machines, though an awful lot less likely to get sapped.

Spy didn't pay much attention to any of it until Sniper started tugging at his collar and muttering about how hot it was inside. Spy peered over the top of a newspaper at him and took in the flushed cheeks, slumped posture and occasional damp sniffs.

'You're sick, Sniper.'

'Oh.'

To Sniper's surprise, Spy reached a hand over and pressed it against his forehead. Then he did it again, but this time without the glove on. Sniper decided that yes, he really must be sick, else there was no way he would have allowed the backstabber to do that.

'You've got a temperature. I'd suggest you either go see the Medic-'

Sniper's fists clenched around the edge of the table and he stared at Spy in horror. Medic had been a little... _volatile_ the last few days. Anyone who went to see him about a cold or the flu would probably come back with their limbs sewn on backwards. If they came back at all.

'Or,' Spy continued, 'you could return to your room and try and get some rest. There's not going to be anymore fighting until this weather lets up a little, so you won't be missing out on anything.'

Sniper looked reluctant. Then he pinched the bridge of his nose, just above his glasses. 'Bloody headache,' he mumbled, blinking blearily. 'Yeah,' he sighed. 'Think you might be onto something there, spook. Just for once.'

Sniper staggered off back to his temporary bedroom. Spy watched him go, smoking and plotting. It was going to be difficult to steal headache tablets and cough medicine from Medic's supplies, given his current state of heightened irateness, but with his cloak it should be possible.

Spy wanted to prove to Sniper that sometimes spooks really could be there for you when you needed them.

Besides, he wanted to the chance to see that real smile of Sniper's again. And possibly his drunk sad koala impression, at some point in the future.


End file.
